


Unholy Conception

by ameerkatofficial



Category: Marvel, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bestiality, Comic, Female Loki, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Lady Loki, Mythology References, Teen Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 23:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16005566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameerkatofficial/pseuds/ameerkatofficial
Summary: A hot take on the myth of the conception of Sleipnir, taking place some unspecified (but short) amount of time after Loki copulated with a horse, and is now coming to the realization of an unholy conception. Mostly based in myth, some reference to comics as well.





	Unholy Conception

**Author's Note:**

> It kinda gets sexual-ish involving the horse but like...not in a "sexy" way...kinda...eh, you'll see. It's done for drama, really, but like if reference to that shit makes you squeamish I suggest you turn back. Also if graphic depictions of anxiety attacks freak you out also don't read this. Stay safe, babies <3
> 
> Also she/her pronouns because Loki is a shapeshifter and is, at the present moment, a girl. Confused? Read a comic or study the myths, pal.

Perhaps none in Asgardia knew, but she did. Perhaps even her own body did not know, but she did. She held a hand to her viscera as she fell to her knees upon the forest underbrush, the moss and roots at her knees. Her teeth clenched, muscles tightened, and she shook slightly from her core, holding it in, holding it all in as she wished and wished and _wished..._

It was night, and the sky was black as pitch above her, save for the stars, and the bluish tint of the moon. Her eyes were frozen wide, as she saw her breath come out in short puffs before her face, the only indication that she was alive and still breathing, and not some grotesque statue. 

And then came a low, desperate moan--

_"Aaahhh..."_

Her emerald eyes shut, and she feared her lids might shatter from how tightly they were bound together. Her teeth clenched, her breathing fast as she tried to make sense of her mind. Her thin hands roamed over her stomach, up and down, counting and recounting her ribs, seizing her breasts, nearly tearing them off her chest. 

And then her hands came to her throat, and she realized then that she had stopped breathing. 

_"Aaahhh...!"_

Loki's mind was still foggy, still half-within that dreamlike state of becoming an animal--truly, _deeply_ becoming one. She still felt terrifyingly heightened sensations, intense smells and sounds, wide, long vision far off into the horizon. And then came such urges, so primal and deep within her, gnawing at her from the insides, wanting to tear itself out.

He smelled rather nice, like musk and pines and running rivers. That was all she held onto in those moments, his scent. It was all he led her by, and it was like they were within a dream as she followed his lead, and she was taken--

Loki fell forward, palms slick, fingers digging into the dirt, jamming it underneath her fingernails. 

She took her job _too far!_ This wasn't the plan! But she could still _feel it!_ Feel it inside!

She felt _everything..._

 _Damn them!_ she thought to herself,  _Damn them all!_ They should have taken her life, those fiends, for all that they threatened. Surely their punishments would have been far less...

Loki swallowed, something salty yet acrid, a mix of mucous and tears and bile. She wanted to retch. She nearly did.

And then something fell into the dirt, shooting fast, like glass arrowheads, and Loki was startled, her spine stiffening as she locked her elbows, ears perked and at the ready, curious of how she didn't sense the rain coming. It was only then that these were coming from the wells of her eyes, and it was her tears that sowed the earth like this, in glass arrowheads, thumping down to bring life to the seedlings below. It was at this thought that she suddenly grabbed fistfuls of the ground.

And with a cry, she threw them ahead, tossing dust into the air, massive chunks of rich soil spewing ahead, as her breath became ragged, her voice louder, until she was sobbing openly and shoving her fists into the ground, shrieking and shaking as her knuckles packed the soil, and tears continued to flow. 

Loki fell forward at last, collapsing face down into the dirt and moss and roots, her dark hair splayed out like tangled rivers of night sky upon the ground, her body rocking in sobs against the soil as it muted her hoarse voice in return. Oh, by the Norns, _by Odin_ , she wished she were dead, wished she could sink into the life-giving soil and have it take hers instead! 

What shame must she endure when she returned home, her body so full?

She held her gut, for it was full, full of life sprung from a force of life running through her like her tears did through the soil. 

There was to be a new life sprung from this little body of hers, a new heir to all of Loki's vast and gnarled legacy. A bastard child was coming to this world. 

Well, let them come. 

 


End file.
